


I Will Always Return

by Sir_Bedevere



Series: Walk Beside Me (Thorin's Songs) [3]
Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sir_Bedevere/pseuds/Sir_Bedevere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When is Uncle Thorin coming back?”</p>
<p>“Soon, my love. He’ll be back soon. Mister Dwalin will look after him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Always Return

“Mama?”

Dís put down her knife and turned to her oldest son, who was pulling gently on her arm. Kili was standing behind him, his blanket clasped in his arms. He was smiling, his thumb in his mouth. Fili was not so happy.

“Mama?”

“Yes my love?”

“When is Uncle Thorin coming back?”

Dís sighed and turned back to her chopping board. Her brother had gone out on a hunting trip six days previously, along with some of his friends. The trips were vital to the survival of their people, but the hunters almost always came back with new scars thanks to the scuffles they often had with groups of ignorant Men who thought that bands of dwarves needed Putting In Their Place. The Men always came off worse but that didn’t stop Dís from worrying. Especially when her brother had promised he would only be gone three days and now it was nearing on a week without a word.

“Soon, my love. He’ll be back soon. Mister Dwalin will look after him.”

Fili shook his head and grabbed her sleeve. He dragged her through to the living room of their tiny home, Kili trailing along quite happily behind them. Fili crawled under the table and beckoned for his mother to follow him. Humouring him, sensing how upset he was, Dís followed. 

“Look,” Fili said, pointing to six little marks scratched into the underside of the table, “You said three days. And now there are six!”

“Six!” Kili repeated. He was just learning his first numbers with Balin and took any chance he could to show off his new lessons. 

“I know I said three days,” Dís sighed, wriggling out from under the table and catching Kili up in her arms, “But sometimes it takes longer. You just have to have patience, my love.”

She didn’t know what she said but Fili gasped as though he was in pain, rolling out from under the table and standing with his little hands fisted at his sides. Tears ran down his face.

“You said that when Papa didn’t come home,” he sobbed, “You said I had to have patience but he never came! He never came!”

He dropped to his knees then and buried his head in his hands. Dís froze, staring at him. He had been so young when his father died, and he spoke of him so rarely that she did not even know he still remembered that awful day when Thorin had come to tell them that Nalin wasn’t coming back. Kili twisted in her arms and looked at his brother, and then his lip began to tremble too.

“Mama? Fili?”

Perhaps she was a little distracted by her oldest son, because Dís didn’t notice the distress in Kili’s voice until he began to scream in her ear. He was upset because Fili was, that she knew, but with two crying dwarflings her evening suddenly looked set to be a difficult one.

“Fili?” she said, shifting Kili to one side and kneeling awkwardly besides Kili’s shaking form, “Fili, listen –”

“Dís?” a soft voice rang through from the kitchen and she sagged with relief.

“In here.”

Balin appeared in the doorway, a concerned look on his gentle face. He had clearly been drawn by the noise, so unlike her boys it was to make one. She had never been more pleased to see her cousin.

“Balin,” she said, “Can you take Kili for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Kili’s weight was plucked easily from her and Balin drew his close, murmuring to him as he discreetly removed himself and the boy from the room.

“Come now, little dwarfling, no need for that. Let’s go and see what Mama has in the kitchen, shall we?”

Soothed by Balin’s voice and calmed by his removal from his brother, Kili had already stopped crying. Fili had not. Dís pulled him from his misery and held him close. He sobbed into her braids.

“I didn’t know you could remember your Papa,” she said, “You never told me.”

“I don’t remember very much,” Fili hiccupped, “He had golden hair like mine and he was warm and he laughed a lot and he didn’t come home.”

He relapsed into fresh tears and Dís felt tears prick at her own eyes. He might not remember much of his father but Fili could recall the important things, the things that had Nalin special. The things that she had loved about him and hoped one day her sons would love about him too.

How she missed him sometimes. And Fili was growing into his father more and more every day and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Papa didn’t come home, my love,” she said eventually, “And we are allowed to miss him. You can talk about him sometimes. I would not mind if you did.”

“Where did he go, Mama?”

“He went to the halls of Mahal,” she said, more cheerfully than she was really feeling, “And he is waiting there for us. We all go there in the end. And we will feast and be together until the day when our maker needs us. We will help him to rebuild the world, you know. Your father was a wonderful craftsman. Mahal will be glad of his help.”

“Mister Balin told us,” Fili sniffed, turning his huge eyes eventually to her face, “Is Uncle Thorin there too? Is that why he has not come home?”

Maybe.

That was the real answer.

“Of course not. He will be back,” she said brightly, scooping Fili into her arms and carrying him to the kitchen, “And it is time for supper.”

Balin had Kili perched on the scrubbed table, playing a counting game. He said nothing and only nodded when Dís asked if he would stay to supper. He distracted the boys with stories, although Fili was still very distant, and put them to bed afterwards. Dís slumped, exhausted, in her chair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Balin said, coming down the stairs, “Kili told me Fili was sad about Uncle Thorin.”

Dís told her cousin the whole story, gripping his hand when she felt her own tears again begin to threaten.

“I did not know, Balin,” she said sadly, “I did not know. And where are they? They were due back days ago.”

Balin’s brow tightened. His brother was amongst the missing party, the only direct relation he had left since his mother had died.

Perhaps Mahal was watching over them that night, because at that exact moment the kitchen door opened and Thorin tramped in, trailed as always by Dwalin.

Dís flew from her chair to greet him, wrapping him in a hug despite the filth on his clothes and in his hair. Balin slipped past them to greet his brother with their traditional head butt.

“Where have you been?” Dís said, hitting her brother, “We’ve been worried about you both.”

Thorin’s brow furrowed.

“We have been late back before. Why –”

She was saved having to answer by a thundering on the stairs and the appearance of two small dwarflings in their night clothes. Fili leapt at Thorin and clung to him, his little fists white with the effort of holding him so tightly. Thorin, a little taken aback, wrapped his arms around his nephew.

“Promise,” Fili choked, “Promise that you will always come home.”

Thorin, a pained look of understanding stealing across his face, glanced at his sister. She just shrugged and so he sat down and nestled Fili in his lap. The boy still hadn’t released his grip on his shirt. Thorin ran his fingers slowly through Fili’s braids, calming him enough that he would let go of his shirt and snuggle more comfortably into his uncle’s chest. Kili, who had clambered up Dwalin’s leg when they first came in, jumped down and joined his brother on Thorin’s lap. 

“Promise,” he said, “Promise Fili.”

Thorin sighed and rested his cheek on Fili’s head.

“I promise I will always try and come home.”

There was no separating either dwarfling from Thorin then – or Dwalin, who took Kili again – and so they ate their supper around the dwarflings nestled on their laps. Eventually, when the boys had fallen asleep, they carried them to their beds and tucked them in for the second time that night. 

Dís caught her brother standing over them and watching them long after their cousins had left for the night. 

She discreetly ignored the distinct sheen in his eyes when he turned to bid her goodnight.


End file.
